Mistaken Gain
by Korrupted
Summary: It's the final battle, and Harry isn't alone in the woods this time. Will this tip the scale in his favor, or lead to disaster? WARNING: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATHS. This follows the movie version more than the book version, but will have book elements. I got the idea randomly and it isn't leaving me alone. Rated T for violence, suggestive themes, dark themes, and language. HIATUS!
1. Tipping the Scales

A/N: This would not stop haunting me. I am getting the first two chapters up and then getting back to work on Frozen Hearts. I actually love the premise of this one.

WARNING: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH! No smut at all here. I know, shocker right?

With Love,  
Korrupted.

Disclaimer: I do NOT own Harry Potter. Trust me, you wouldn't want me to, anyways.

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Harry Potter stood in front of the pensieve, his eyes dark in confusion. He was alive only to die? He was another Horcrux? His green eyes darted about wildly, suddenly feeling as if the Headmaster's office was far too small and getting smaller by the second. He was the Boy Who Lived, but for how much longer? His friends still had to contend with Tom and defeat Nagini before they could end the reign the evil wizard had over the magical world.

And then there was Professor Severus Snape.

The professor he had always hated, had always enjoyed seeing halted in any plan and action, had been protecting him. Even in his first year against Quirrell's plotting, Snape had protected him. In his third year, Harry could clearly recall the man he hated most firmly planting himself between the Golden Trio and Remus in werewolf form and taking a direct slash for them. On and on, his thoughts started to connect, the subtle expressions and mannerisms all suddenly clear as day. Professor Snape had been watching over him, protecting him in the memory of the one woman that he would ever love. Still, he had to fulfill his fate.

He knew that he had to die at the hands of the wizard who killed his family, murdered his secret protector, allowed the deaths of Tonks, Sirius, Remus, and Fred, and was threatening the lives of his friends. There was no choice, and it was maddening to him. How could Dumbledore have been so cold in the phrasing of his death? How could the old man be so cool about the loss of his life, of making all that Snape had done to keep him safe in vain? _'Because there was no choice.' _Harry realized, feeling as if all of the fight had been drained out of him. He had as little choice in this as his former Headmaster had. Slowly, as if in a daze, Harry Potter looked around the office one final time, taking in all of the sights as if for the first time. This would be the last time he would see the looming chair, the snoring paintings of witches and wizards long since gone in their frames, the empty perch of Fawkes. He could hear each breath, feel each fiber of his clothing as it brushed against his skin. He had never known such clarity, and it was such a shame that it had to happen only a handful of minutes before it would all slip away.

Harry's bright green gaze drifted to the door, moving towards it as if not in his own body, his mind both quiet and raging as he continued on autopilot. Stone stairs were suddenly under his trainers; when had he made it to the many moving stair cases? He couldn't remember getting this far, but it wasn't too important, stepping over books that were strewn all over the landing before turning onto another set of stairs. Below him, he could see the forms of Ron and Hermione huddled at the foot of the stairs he was currently walking down, nodding very subtly to himself in conviction. He had to go do this, and they couldn't stop him. No matter how much it hurt him, he wouldn't let them stop him this time. His two best mates. The Brightest Witch of Her Age, and the Ginger Lion; what would life have been like without them? Obviously, very short as they were crucial to him living past his first year here.

He walked closer, Hermione looking over her shoulder and standing swiftly upon seeing him approaching, her face a mixture of confusion, relief, and worry. Ron was far slower to turn, likely still in shock from the loss of Fred. "Where have you been?" She questioned in a hushed voice that betrayed her worry as the redhead next to her straightened.

"We thought you went to the Forest." The other male spoke just as quietly as the Gryffindor girl had, his blue eyes full of relief at seeing him still in the school. Why did it pain him so much to tell them this final task? _'Tell them to kill the snake, then kill Voldemort. Everything will be fine after that. You will do what you need to to keep them all safe.' _He told himself, but it was weak sounding and half-hearted. Nobody truly wants to die, but he had to.

"I'm going there now." He responded in a voice that was far more confident than he felt.

Ron spoke as he walked past his two closest friends, his voice breathless. "Are you mad? No." Harry crossed the next landing, his eyes on the stone floor. _'Keep going. You have to do this, don't let them stop you.' _He demanded of himself. "You can't give yourself up to him." His friend continued.

His footsteps faltered, the Boy Who Lived coming to a halt finally at the edge of the landing, his gaze still downcast. He should keep walking, leave them behind with the simply directions of killing the snake and them the enemy before meeting his end. "What is it Harry?" He heard Hermione inquire, her voice strong and calm somehow.

The Golden Boy nodded to himself again, biting the inside of his lower lip to keep from tasting the grime that coated his mouth as he made his choice, turning to face them both. This was it. He would give them his final instructions and leave. That was all there was to it.

"What is it that you know?" She went on, her brown gaze prodding gently as their eyes hesitantly met. She was brilliant. If only he had a tenth of her genius, then maybe he could think of a million other ways that this had to play out. Merlin, did he want to grow old with these two, marry Ginny, and watch as their two families lived out their exceedingly long lives together.

With a shuddering breath in, Harry began. "There's a reason I can hear them. The Horcruxes." He watched as Ron's face fell a bit, as if he had hoped that their leader would reconsider going and fight by their side instead. Hermione's gaze lowered, as if she had recalled a memory best left forgotten, her eyes starting to water before meeting his vivid verdant hues again. He could feel his voice getting thick with unshed tears as he went on. "I think I've known for a while." Harry had to take a moment to calm himself, his eyes dropping to Hermione's charmed beaded bag tied to her denim trousers. "And I think you have too."

He could hear her half-sobbed inhale, knowing that she might be about to forbid him from going, to tell him to remain, and she would sort out a different way to go about this whole mess. He would deny her that. He would stun her if needed, shove past Ron and bolt towards his own demise.

"I'll go with you."

The words the Granger girl uttered were choked with tears, Harry snapping his eyes up to meet hers as streams of tears cascaded down her bruised and dirty cheeks, leaving tiny trails of slightly clean skin. She looked in physical pain, like the words of him leaving them were her own personal Cruciatus Curse. Hermione go with him? He hadn't expected that one. As much as she had always been by his side through everything, he had expected her to fight against him going, not aid him. And he had to admit, he could use her for company before the end, maybe even she could be of more use to the cause by being nearby.

"Hermione, it's really dangerous. There will be Death Eaters everywhere." He reminded her, looking her in the eyes with fear for her life.

"I know. I... I'll stay under the Cloak. Please, Harry. Let me go with you." She pleaded once again.

_"Soon, we must all face the choice between what is right, and what is easy."_

The words of Albus Dumbledore rang throughout his mind, echoing inside the somehow deafeningly empty space between his ears. She was making her choice, now it was his. Could he allow her to risk her life even more than she had already? Well, not like he could do much to stop her; she was far more proficient at magic than he could ever hope to be with the exception of the Patronus charm. She could hex him to hell and back wordlessly before even a single spell could even be processed in his mind. Even without her wand, she would be able to subdue him. She could be the edge they needed to win.

"All right. But you must do as I say, Hermione." He commanded gently, watching her tearfully nod.

"I'll come too." Ron piped up suddenly, as if only just now he was filled with the desire to face the evil that the ginger refused to call by name.

"No, kill the snake." His eyes were pleading, imploring. "Kill the snake and then it's just him."

Ron stood silent for a few moments before nodding, his eyes stern. Hermione turned and pulled the ginger into a tight embrace, holding him close as Harry watched their faces. His best friend looked close to tears as he held the witch firmly, something in his eyes filled with a deep, sad longing that the scarred wizard couldn't place. After the two of them pulled apart, the youngest Weasley boy locked eyes with him once more. "You both will meet me in the Great Hall when this bloody thing is over. We started this seven years ago together, and I want us to walk out of here the same way. No one else needs to die for this bloody war." He stated, wiping the sleeve of his jumper across his pale, freckled cheeks. "Keep her safe, Harry."

"I'll keep her safe, I promise." He swore, their eyes locked. Hermione would get out of the forest just fine, it was only his own fate that was uncertain.

With that, Hermione opened her purse and extracted the Cloak, draping it over them as they vanished from view, the Boy Who Lived and the Golden Girl both moving through the broken school, then the courtyard, and finally the grounds to the Forest in silence. After they had made it past the first few layers of trees, Harry pulled the cloth off of them and they moved on exposed, walking side by side as their eyes swept around nervously. "Hermione?" He asked, the whisper sounding almost deafening to his ears in contrast to the silence of everything else.

"Yes?"

"Thanks." He confessed.

The prospect of being alone had terrified him deep down, dying alone in the midst of all of the enemy was a very horrible one. At least one person would know the truth about how he had died and share it with the world. She probably would even be able to figure out some fancy spell to crate some sort of living monument to him after the war. "It's nothing, Harry."

Once again, they moved in silence, Harry turning the Golden Snitch over and over again in his pocket as they did so. He knew what was inside of it, and they both knew he would use it. What would he see? How would his family look? So many questions kept running around his head, the duo halting in a clearing at his motion. He lift the trophy out of his pocket and uttered in a soft voice, "I'm ready to die." before gently pressing the cool metal surface to his lips.

Next to him, he could hear his friend holding her breath anxiously, unsure if she was waiting for the Snitch to open, or listening for an ambush. After he removed it, the odd sounds of mechanical whirring was heard, the item slowly opening to reveal the Hallow he had most desired; the Resurrection Stone. Both of them gazed at the small floating object in open wonder, neither daring to even breathe for a few seconds. Slowly, hesitantly, Harry lift his hand to cradle below the Stone, muttering in awe, "The Resurrection Stone..." Before clasping his fingers around it.

He met Hermione's eyes briefly. "I'm probably going to look like a complete nutter, but I have to do this. If you hear anything, I want you to hide under the Cloak and go. Do you understand?" Harry's tone was pleading, but his loyal friend simply nodded.

Turning the item over in his hand three times, the Golden Boy of Gryffindor closed his eyes and focused on the magic that lay within it, on the ones he wanted most desperately to see. When he opened them once more, he and Hermione were no longer alone; the spectral forms of Remus, Sirius, James, and Lily stood around them as well. Green eyes flicked from silver apparition to silver apparition, his mother reaching out one hand to him in the most warm and loving gesture he had ever known. As if driven by some unknown imperative, Harry went to her, ignoring Hermione completely in his haste to speak to the woman he had only seen in pictures and could recall hearing with his own two ears only once before, in Little Hangleton graveyard. He reached out a trembling hand to touch hers, his fingers slipping through her insubstantial form as a sharp jolt of pain hit his heart. He could see her, but not touch her. The thought was painfully sobering, the wizard lowering his arm slowly, Lily Potter watching him sadly, but happily.

"You've been so brave, sweetheart." She told him, her voice soft and warm to his ears. It was like a beloved blanket found once more after being so long misplaced.

Harry had to clear his throat, trying not to cry openly. "Why are you here?" He questioned, shifting a bit. "All of you?"

A bitter-sweet Mona Lisa smile crossed her features. "We never left." The smile hesitantly grew, as if she wasn't quite sure how to assure her son, but she wanted to show him the depth of her love; the love that prompted her to die to save him all those years ago.

He nodded at her words, choking slightly before turning to his right, looking to Sirius next. "Does... does it hurt? Dying?" He questioned.

The figure of his God-father seemed to take a breath in, trying to regain a bit of the confidence he had exuded in life as he replied, "Quicker than falling asleep."

"You're nearly there, son." James told him in a gentle voice full of latent strength.

"I'm sorry." Harry said suddenly, turning to look at each of the ghosts in turn. "I never wanted any of you to die for me." He faced the image of his former professor, the man who had taught him to fight and how to hold onto the good in the face of so much bad. The man who had fallen with his wife just to give their son the hope of a better future. "And Remus, your son-"

"Others will tell him what his mother and father died for." The werewolf's gaze was kind, assuring, forgiving. Harry wished he could forgive himself like they could. "One day, he'll understand."

The green eyed man turned once more to the woman who had used herself to shield him from the magic that should have taken his life all those years ago. The mother who had loved him with every ounce of her being, the woman that Severus Snape had always loved, even after all this time. The woman who shared his almond shaped green gaze. Harry turned to face his father next, the man who had laid down his life to protect his wife and son, knowing that without a wand it was hopeless. He had known he would die, but stood in the path of Voldemort anyways, choosing to fall for his family instead of running in fear. "You'll stay with me..." He questioned.

"Until the end." James replied without hesitation, nodding with his words much like Harry found himself doing throughout his life.

He looked next to Sirius, the man who had been killed to save him from his own folly at the Ministry of Magic. The man who had cheered him on, fought next to him, and aided him as much as he could in the hopes that after the war was over, they could be a proper family at long last. "And he won't be able to see you." Harry prodded, desperate to know.

"No." The only Black Gryffindor replied gently, Harry fully facing him now. "We're here, you see." Sirius pointed to Harry's heart, a smile on his lips.

For several seconds, Harry stood in silence, as if weighing all his options, not recalling Hermione watching only twenty or less paces away as he glanced back to his mother, their eyes locking and holding in silence as she simply smiled at him tenderly. He nodded a few times, swallowing the lump in his throat. "Stay close to me." The wizard requested of the spirits, Lily uttering only one word in reply.

"Always."

It was the same word that Snape had used to describe how long he had loved her, part of the boy vaguely wondering if the woman didn't have a place for the Potions Master in her heart. Instead of dwelling on it, Harry turned from the group and walked back to Hermione, placing the Stone inside her jacket pocket. "I want you to take this. I know you, 'Mione. You would only use it if there was no other choice. It would be safest with you, I'm sure of it." The Boy Who Lived informed her, watching her nod.

"What now?" She questioned in a trembling voice.

What now indeed. "Now, I go to him. After he kills me, Tom will be weakened. Once Ron kills the snake, then you have to kill him. Do you understand?" The nod was sad, the tears running down her face. "Stay hidden under the Cloak. You and I both know that I won't come back. You can tell everyone what happened here."

"Harry, I've got to-" She started, but a hand from Harry hushed her, the boy looking into the trees.

"They're close. Get under the Cloak, now. Stay quiet." He commanded, watching as his brilliant friend once again vanished from view, leaving him seemingly alone in the middle of the Forest.

Harry started walking quietly, hearing hushed voices talking somewhere in front of him among the trees.

"There's no sign of him, my Lord." A male voice informed someone.

There was a whisper so soft, Harry didn't catch it, walking closer and with more determination than before. Slowly, a cluster of Death Eaters and Voldemort himself came into view, the bound form of Hagrid there as well. "'Arry?! No!" The half giant yelled as the Dark Lord turned to face him. "What are y'doin' 'ere?!"

"Harry Potter..." Voldemort spoke in a sort of raspy reverence as he looked at the young wizard before him. "The Boy Who Lived, come to die."

Harry had never been so afraid in his life, never wanted so badly to just run as far away as possible and never look back. But there was the snake. The damn snake that they needed to kill just to be able to then kill it's master. Time stretched on as seconds ticked by, every one of them like a year to him as he waited for that fatal spell. Slowly, Harry closed his green eyes, trying to be brave like his mother. Like his father. Like Sirius, Remus, Fred, Tonks, and Colin.

Like Snape.

_"AVADA KEDAVRA!"_


	2. The Price to Pay

A/N: And this is the last chapter up for now. It's three freaking AM here and I had to get this one up. Bed time!

Warning: Language, peril, and other kiddie stuff. Also, MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH.

With love,  
Korrupted.

Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter.

* * *

**_"Of course it's happening inside your head, Harry. Why should that mean, that it's not real?"_**

Harry woke up to the sound of groaning from afar, the voice clearly Tom's, Bellatrix whispering to him. Before he had died, he could have sworn he had heard a second Kedavra being cast in the shadow of the first. It could have been a Death Eater being doubly sure of his demise, or just his imagination.

"I don't need your help." He spoke in a weak but cold voice, full of confusion, Harry understanding that he hadn't expected to feel that soul piece ripped to shreds.

"The boy... Is he dead?" He heard the female Death Eater question breathlessly, suddenly panicked. No, he was very much alive somehow. If they checked him though, he wouldn't be alive much longer.

He could hear hesitant footsteps coming up behind him, a slender hand on his chest. He knew as surely as he was alive that whoever it was could feel his heart hammering like mad in his chest. He was a dead man.

"Is he alive? Draco, is he alive?" The hurried whisper of Narcissa Malfoy reached his ears, Harry nodding barely an inch in reply.

He felt the hand relax before it was pulled away, the noise shifting as she stood. All was eerily silent, part of him afraid Hermione had bolted in terror. He wouldn't hold it against her if she had run, she didn't need to stay after he had died. Almost a minute of that dreadful silence marched on before a single word cut through it like a sharp dagger.

"Dead."

A dark chuckled started from somewhere behind him, the sound cold and cruel. "Harry Potter is dead. He's DEAD!" Voldemort called to his followers, laughter ensuing as Hagrid bellowed in heart-broken fury. _"CRUCIO!"_

Harry was expecting the horrible agony that would force him to give up his position, but instead he felt slight tugging as his body went as limp as possible. He flopped around, but it didn't hurt. "Ah! Here it is, my Lord!" The haughty voice of Bellatrix called, the sound of shuffling heard before muttering. "It's the filthy Mudblood! One less of those disgusting creatures!"

Harry couldn't help one eye snapping open at her words, her voice thankfully in the direction he was facing so he didn't have to move more than just his eyelids. There, laying on the cold, leaf covered ground of the Forbidden Forest was Hermione. Her brown eyes were fixed on nothing, her face still partially clouded by sorrow and horror, the glistening lines of her final tears still wet on her cheeks. Her lips were slightly parted, as if trying to take back the soft sob that had cost her her life. The Cloak was instantly invisible once more from how Bellatrix had thrown it, but everyone was too busy reveling in the demise of two thirds of the Golden Trio to care. Only Harry was still alive while the most clever witch he had ever known lay dead and gone, Bellatrix kicking the corpse once with a sneer.

He had no idea how he managed it, but Harry didn't cry. The tears burned somewhere between the rage and grief, but they did not come. As much as he wanted to kill each and every one of these monsters, Nagini had to die first, and then he would avenge her.

_"Harry, I've got to-"_

He had cut her off. Why had he done that? Why hadn't he let her finish what she was saying? He didn't even say good-bye to her. The one who had stuck by his side thick and thin, even when Ron was against him, was gone. Just like all the other people he cared about. "You, giant. Carry his body. That way all can see my victory." He heard the Dark Lord goad.

"What of the Mudblood?" He heard Lucius question, the disdain clear in his tone.

"Leave it for the animals. It's filth anyways."

Harry was trembling in fury, wanting nothing more than to cast several killing curses at every single Death Eater, sparing only the Lady Malfoy of his wrath, but he couldn't have let her die for nothing. He would, however come back later for her body. To have her honored, and buried properly. If only he hadn't let her come. If only he had told her to remain with Ron. Would she have fallen in the battle to come? He didn't know, but he knew she wouldn't be laying on the cold earth of the Forest. And that was the painful truth.

As hard as he shook in suppressed rage, the huge arms that lifted him were shaking even harder, Hagrid sobbing. He felt the world moving, lumbering footsteps alerting him that they were on the move, but the wizard was busy committing Hermione's location to memory; he would return for her. On and on Hagrid walked, a few stray tears running down his cheeks as the truth sank in. No longer would Hermione be there to think of the next great plan, of exactly how they would go about exacting one of his insane plans. There was no more Golden Trio. The footsteps below him shifted in sound as they made their way across the somehow still standing stone bridge, mincing through the shattered remains of statues and Death Eater corpses. A part of him wanted to see how many of the foe had fallen, each body would be a small notch in a victory in Hermione's name, but he didn't dare blow his own cover.

"Who is that? Hagrid's carrying... Neville, who is that?"

Harry heard Ginny's trembling voice as they entered what he guessed was the courtyard, relieved that she was still alright since he left with Hermione.

"Harry Potter... _IS DEAD!_" Voldemort called out in a glee filled voice, taking obvious joy in his success.

_"NOOOO!" _The girl screamed, the sound of utter heartache in her voice. Was that how Ron would sound when he learned if Hermione laying dead in the Forest?

_"SILENCE!"_

Harry tuned out so very much of the rest of it, vaguely aware of the Malfoys claiming their son as Neville gave a very stirring speech. He had to fight back more tears as the other wizard listed people who had fallen, and finally with the sound of the Sword of Gryffindor being drawn, Harry pushed off of Hagrid and dropped to the hard stone floor. Stars burst forth in front of his green eyes, but in each one he only saw Hermione. In one she was laughing, another lying to save them in return for saving her from the troll, in another her hugging him tightly and kissing his hair after the second task of the tournament, yet another she was punching Malfoy right in the mouth. In a final one, she stood before him in the Forest, tears running from her eyes down her dirty cheeks as she seemed to decide on telling him something.

_"Harry, I've got to-"_

His livid gaze met the bewildered slitted pupils of Voldemort, rage painting the young wizard's face. _"CONFRINGO!" _He shouted, lacking all the finesse that Hermione had ever taught him as the spell hurtled towards the snake beside the man hate hated more than anything.

He raced off as the spell rebounded into the crowd of Death Eaters, dodging frantically to avoid the very sloppy spells of a now terrified Tom Riddle, running for his life towards the castle. He could hear several Death Eaters Disapparating as quickly as possible due to Bellatrix demanding them to come back, still fleeing towards the school that had been his safe haven for many years, his home. "Everyone, get back into the castle! We have to kill the snake!" He yelled as Kinglsey cast up quick Progento charms.

"You'll need this!" Ron stated, holding up a basilisk fang and shoving it into Harry's hands, one in his own still.

Voldemort smashed through the barrier with his remaining troops, his face painted with fury as he approached, knocking Neville backwards into the air with a mighty jinx. With the flick of his wrist, he vanished with Nagini into nothing, the flurry of staff and students retreating deeper into the school's hold to continue the battle. Harry walked backwards, losing the rest of the students in the thick fog of dust, his wand out and at the ready.

_"Swish and flick."_

The voice of the eleven year old girl who would become his most loyal and dearest friend interrupted his thoughts, causing him to look around for the source. The action caused him to only get sideswiped by a hex, Harry spinning around wildly before blindly casting one of his own into a wall in his confusion. He looked around, spotting a few dead Death Eaters, and the body of a Ravenclaw boy propped against the wall before fleeing, murder and suffering heavy in his heart. He found a decent pillar to hide behind, hearing the tell-tale sound of misplaced air as Tom Apparated once more on the stairs near him. The wizard swiftly dashed out and cast a spell at him, finding himself quickly in the fight for his very life against the greatest evil ever known. The duel was growing one-sided as Tom shifted locations, Nagini slowly slithering closer and closer to kill him as it had Snape. A well aimed block had the ceiling coming down near the Dark Lord, the Boy Who Lived turning his attention towards the snake now, a fang in his hand as he sized up the final Horcrux.

_"Now, if you two don't mind, I'm going to bed before either one of you comes up with another clever idea to get us killed. Or worse; expelled."_

His attention turned to the upper banister, seeing Tom watching him, murder on his pale features moments before he struck. The green eyed wizard threw himself off of the stairs and onto another set, the fang dropping from his grasp only to be tuned to ashes by his foe. Off he raced again, Voldemort right on his heels in a mist of black magic, the boy wizard taking off for one of the many towers.

His legs were like rubber as he dashed along the wooden walkway, Voldemort Apparating right in front of him to blast the surface below him, dropping to the floor only to be caught by tendrils of black robes. He was suddenly in front of the man responsible for so many deaths, the cold hand holding his jaw firmly. "Why do you live?" Was the condescending question, the sneer bringing forth more fury.

_"That felt good."_

His own features hardened, gripping his wand harder. "Because I have something worth living for." He snarled back, his anger casting several jinxes faster than he could think of the names, slashing his way free of the robes. With a grunt of hate, he punched the older man in the mouth, the look of pain and disbelief on his face incredibly satisfying.

The man staggered about, blood leaking from his lips, the younger wizard advancing. "Hey, you alright?" He taunted, throwing another strike to the deformed face of Tom Riddle. "When you told Professor Snape that wand was failing you." He pointed with his own wand, seething in vengeful fury. "It will always fail!" A wild spell knocked Harry backwards, pushing him nearer to the turrets.

Tom stood, his nostril slits bleeding freely as he panted, brandishing the strip of wood angrily. "_I_ killed Snape!" He shot back, walking closer to his seemingly unkillable target.

Harry backed himself near a hole in the stone wall, waiting for his chance. "But what if that wand never belonged to Snape?" Three more steps, that was all Tom had to take. Just three more steps. "What if it's allegiance was always to someone else?" Two steps. One step. "Come on Tom, let's finish this the way we started it."

_"Well, that's because you've got the emotional range of a teaspoon."_

He threw his arms around his opponents shoulders, locking them together. "Together!" Harry stated coldly, throwing them both off of the tower.

The two of them scrambled and scrabbled against each other as they hurtled through the stormy air, Tom trying to push Harry to his death, Harry trying to remain firmly clasped onto the evil man. At some point, they struck the courtyard hard, the duo breaking apart to pant and groan in pain. It took Harry several moments to spot his wand, crawling over to it with as much desperation as Tom had, each grasping their weapons and raising them at the same time. The spells collided in the air, both holding their attack, neither yielding an inch, the struggle going on for what felt like ages.

Suddenly, it all halted. Tom Marvolo Riddle looked confused, tired, and so very mortal as Nagini was slain, his final Horcrux destroyed. And for a moment, Harry froze, sympathy swelling in him. A part of him wanted to tell Riddle about how Snape had never been his, about the real power that would forever elude him, how to save himself from the horrors of rending his own soul apart. But a soft, half sobbed statement reached him, breaking his heart all over again.

_"I'll go with you."_

His face darkened as Riddle raised his wand once again, lashing right back with a spell of his own. With the pain he felt at losing the girl who had time and time again saved his life, Harry pushed back the curse towards the caster. She had made sure he would keep surviving so many times, and he hadn't been able to save her once. Not even just this once. The Elder Wand sent a horrible curse of it's own into the older man's body, his hate, rage, and pain channeled into the act as the wooden item flew into the air and into his grasp, Voldemort blasted back to the ground, dead.

For several seconds, all was silent as the body lay there, and then the cheering started as Harry sank to his knees. He had won. It was over, and they all had won; so why did he feel so hollow? Tears ran down his cheeks as he shook, mentally trying to recall his steps through the Forest to the clearing. Back to the body of Hermione, alone in that dark wood.

_"Assuming I survive our hunt for the Horcruxes, I'll find Mum and Dad and lift the enchantment. If I don't – well, I think I've cast a good enough charm to keep them safe and happy. Wendell and Monica Wilkins don't know that they've got a daughter, you see." _

Harry felt a hand on his shoulder as he held himself tightly, crying, his green eyes looking up to see Luna, Neville, Ginny, and Ron. His body as shuddering from the force of his sobs, snot and heavy tears running down his face as the celebration raged on around them. It was a victory, so why did he feel defeated?

"Harry? Harry, what's the matter? We've won, mate." Neville spoke in a voice that sounded half cheerful, half confused.

"Blimey Harry, what's gotten into you? Are you barking mad? Oi, where's Hermione? I want to apologize to her for that bloody awful kiss." Ron stated, looking around for the brilliant woman as if she would walk around a pile of rubble with a smile and a stack of heavy books in her arms. Harry only sobbed harder, wanting to vanish. How could he tell them?

"Ron, what on earth are you going on about?!" Ginny demanded, glaring daggers at her brother.

"We snogged in the Chamber of Secrets, and it was bloody terrible. No offence, Gin, but it was like kissing my sister." He sheepishly rubbed the back of his head. "Got bloody awkward real fast after that. I always thought we fancied each other, but when we tired to act on it, it was ruddy terrible."

"H-herm... Herm-m..." Harry tried to force out, all eyes on him.

Luna remained silent, a very gentle hand on his shoulder squeezing for assurance and support. He knew that she could sense the horrible truth without him having to say it, tears rolling down from her typically vacantly happy blue eyes. They were distant, and closed off at the moment, as if a horrible storm was hitting and to protect her own harbor she had to shut everything else out.

"Harry...?" Ginny's voice was so small, so scared. "Harry, what happened to Hermione?"

"S... S-she's... she's dead..."


	3. Losing One's Way

A/N: So, yeah. This happened. Because I have no idea.

Warning: Language, dark-ish themes, Language.

With Love,  
Korrupted.

Shout outs:

Brian1972: She's my favorite character too, but this plot was taunting me. I had to get it down or I would lose what little mind I have left!

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is still not mine. Nope. Not at all.

* * *

Harry was unsure if he had gone deaf to the four standing around him, the sounds of the cheering dying away slowly as he continued to sob. Voldemort was dead, the war was won, but the cost was staggering to him. It had cost him his family, his friends. Even Hermione. Finally, he felt hands gripping his collar, yanking him to face the stricken looking Weasley boy, everyone else gasping in shock. "No! She... she can't be! You're wrong, mate! You're bloody wrong!" Ron yelled, tears pouring down his cheeks.

Ginny had sunk to the debris covered stones of the ground, her hands over her mouth as soft sobs wracked her frame. Even Neville looked mortified at the loss of the girl who would whisper hushed instructions to him in classes. Green eyes met torn blue, the pain evident in them as he simply sobbed. If he was lucky, Ron would begin beating his face in. Injure him, maim him. It wouldn't even begin to make up for the failure to their dear friend, but it would be a wonderful start.

"I... I loved her, mate... I loved her, and I bloody messed up th-that kiss. If we had... a bit more time... Just a bit more, we might have..." A soft sob escaped the Ginger Lion's mouth as his grip weakened, sorrow washing over his features. "We could have been..."

Harry was released, but he only dropped back to his knees as Ron fell to his rear on the ground, openly sobbing as the sight of the five young leaders of Dumbledore's Army weeping and sobbing loudly drew the attention of all others. There was no more laughter, no more cheering, not a single sound aside from the wails and distraught cries of the five students filled the air. Luna was even sniffling softly, her calm air broken to reveal a red eyed mess of stammers and squeaks. Hermione had been one of her only five true friends. They had bickered, they had disagreed, but they were each other's opposites; in the same room, they balanced each other out perfectly. Neville wandered over to the Ravenclaw and wrapped his arms around her firmly, drawing the blonde into his chest as they cried together.

After what seemed like an eternity, Harry stood weakly, his legs almost unwilling to support his weight as he stumbled towards the bridge, his vision hazy with tears. "Harry, Harry wait!" He heard Luna calling, a hand on his shoulder.

He turned to face Neville, Luna, Ginny, and even a reluctant looking Ron, all of their faces red and splotchy. "Are... Are you going to collect her?" Ginny inquired in a timid voice, as if something inside of her had broken. This had been the girl that she had shared her room with at the Burrow for years, who had traded secrets with, who she had mused about being a sister-in-law to. But now, all that had turned to dust the very moment the war had ended. Why could they not have even their friend with them as a victory? Why had Voldemort taken even that simple notion from them as well?

"Yeah... I've got to. I can't just leave her out there... She deserves better..."

"We'll come too. We all were her friends as well. I... I can always ask the N-nargles to help find flowers..." Luna supplied, even her usual whimsy had a shadow cast upon it, the ghost of a smirk on Harry's lips at her words.

"Yeah, I reckon we all can get her. She... She would have wanted that." His green gaze turned to take in the four standing around him, vaguely hearing Hagrid conversing with a now stricken looking McGonagall. "Come on, we best get moving. We don't want anything..." His words died on his lips, unable to finish that awful thought.

Instead, Ginny locked hands with Harry and Luna, the blonde taking Ron's, and Ron taking hold of Neville's. "Harry... Let's Apparate to her." The youngest Weasley suggested.

With a mute nod, the Boy Who Twice Lived turned on the spot, all four of them vanishing before appearing in the clearing. A soft sob was voiced next to him as Ginny spotted the prone form of Hermione Granger laying on her side in the leaves, bits of dirt on part of her jacket. He suspected that the kick from Bellatrix had rolled the girl slightly, her brown gaze empty as she looked out into the trees.

_"If you want to kill Harry, you'll have to kill us too."_

It made him burn with a bitter sorrow and rage all over again. Slowly, as if all in a daze, the group made their way over to the dead witch, gently shifting her to lay on her back once more. With that motion, a tiny object fell from her pocket next to Harry's knee; the Resurrection Stone. Without a word, he casually pocketed the small Stone, located the Cloak of Invisibility, before the five witches and wizards lift the body without the use of spells, all silently walking towards the school.

Holding her body made his arms burn, but he made not a word of protest. None of them did. They did not speak, just soft sniffles and sobs voiced among themselves as they crossed the bridge, holding the Golden Girl of Gryffindor between them. The closer they got, the more cries of horror and shock could be heard, even Professor McGonagall choking on a gasp. It was so very clear that no one could have ever dreamed that the brilliant young witch would have fallen, but Harry knew that it had been by an equally - if not more powerful witch; Bellatrix Lestrange. Part of him wanted to know if anyone had slain the female Death Eater, and if so, who. The Stone felt like a mountain of hot lead in his jacket, begging him to use it again, but he dare not here. Not under the sharp eyes of all who were present.

"Hermione! Merlin, _NO!_"

The screech of Molly Weasley cut through the Golden Boy like a searing blade, the matriarch of the Weasley family dropping to the stone floor in horror, sobbing aloud. The five bearers renewed their own sorrow, carrying her on towards the Great Hall, where the rest of the injured and dead remained. Madame Hooch summoned up a cot as they drew near, her sharp yellow eyes wide at the sight. Hermione had never been all too great at her lessons, but the old Quidditch coach had still enjoyed the company of the level-headed youth. Harry could almost recall her difficulty with a broom, her uncertainly commanding it to rise only to have it roll about on the grass as if laughing at her. A tiny smile edged onto his cheeks as he recalled her later demanding him to help teach her the finer points of flying, which she improved from, though ultimately knew that she would never be near the level Ron or Ginny were at. Gently, respectfully, they lay Hermione's limp form on the cot, the silence in the entire Hall pressing in on them as they gazed down at her sadly, her eyes staring up at the grey clouds that were magically projected onto what remained of the ceiling.

It was Luna who stepped forward, two gold Galleons in her hand as she knelt beside the Gryffindor, gently pushing her eyelids down before placing the two coins over her eyes. She gently placed the chaste kiss of a dear friend on Hermione's grime coated forehead, standing as Ginny knelt next, all of them unaware of the drove of people entering the Great Hall. The ginger girl took one of her friend's hands in her own, holding and stroking the back of it sadly before she too kissed her forehead gently, placing the hand across the dead witch's stomach. Neville was next, his lower lip trembling as more hot tears poured from his eyes. After rubbing his vision clear, he rest a hand on her cold shoulder. "Bye, Hermione... I don't think I would have... have been a real Gryffindor without you helping me." His words were choked at the end, kissing her forehead lightly as his tears dropped onto her skin.

Ron stood for a few more moments before kneeling as well, lightly kissing her lips, then forehead. "I'm... I'm sorry f... for not being the one... I'm so sorry, 'Mione... I'm so bloody sorry." He sobbed into her forehead, standing before covering his mouth, his sister hugging him tightly.

As Harry knelt next to Hermione, he noticed that the Galleons Luna used to cover her eyes with were the D.A coins that she had crafted, biting his tongue to keep back the wails that threatened to pour from his very soul and fill up the room with his pain.

_"It's sort of exciting, isn't it... Breaking the rules."_

His hands rest over hers as they lay folded on her stomach, his frame wracked with silent sobs. If only he had told her no. If only he had just told her what he had told Ron. Then she wouldn't be here in this cot, a corpse being mourned over by her friends, unknown by her own parents, a war hero who had fallen for the cause. She had wanted her parents to remain blissfully ignorant of her existence if she hadn't survived, and as much as he wanted to run to Australia and find them to restore their memories, he had to honor her wishes. "I never wanted yuh-you to die for me, Hermione! You weren't supposed to die... Y-you were su-supposed to gr...grow old with us all..." He whimpered through tears, hiding his face in her side.

She was just another Dobby, another Snape. A needless death that served to cause him such horrible pain. Finally, once he could control himself properly again, Harry kissed her forehead, whispering a soft spell as the writing on the Galleons changed. When he righted himself once again, the two gold coins read;

**_'Hermione Jean Granger. Hero, brilliant witch, and dear friend. You were our human Patronus.'_**

His bright green eyes flickered around the room as a soft glow emanated from around him, seeing everyone holding up their wands in honor of the fallen Gryffindor Lioness. Even Professor Trelawney held her wand aloft, her eyes filled with renewed sadness at the body of the girl who had also tried to defend Lavender. They had both failed in that task, but now Hermione was just another addition to the rising death count, and it was far too much for Harry to take.

He turned on his heel and fled the room, dashing along the rubble and up to the one room he had never thought he would see again. Before he knew it, the boy wizard was standing before the half crumbled gargoyle, panting as it simply moved aside for him without a password. He stumbled inside, finding the painting of the one person he needed to speak to more than Hermione right now. "Professor! She's gone, I failed her and now she's dead! Just like everyone else..." He lamented aloud to Albus, who seemed to snap awake in his portrait.

"Harry? Good heavens, boy. Calm down, what has happened?"

Taking several shuddering breaths, the Boy Who Twice Lived recounted the experience in the Forest, watching through watery eyes as the elder wizard seemed to droop in his chair. Harry didn't know a person could cry so much; even when Sirius had died, it hadn't been nearly this bad. Finally, he was sitting in the chair, feeling far older than he had ever thought he would become. However, it was not Dumbledore who spoke words of comfort to him.

"Mr. Potter," A voice in a slightly arrogant drawl started. "I know you are well aware of my dislike for... Hermione." It was the first time the lanky man had ever used her first name, and it sounded alien to the scarred man. "However, I can assure you that I do sympathize with your feelings. She was very brilliant, and had she been in my House, I am certain she would have been my pride and joy as a Professor. I know she was very dear to you, and..." The words seemed to be difficult for the painted wizard to get out.

"And I am very sorry for your loss, Harry Potter."

Green almond shaped eyes slowly met black, seeing the truth of his words in the canvas. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the tiny Hallow that seemed the least useful to Voldemort, the only one he wanted to use at this time. He would use the Elder Wand to fix his own wand in due time, but for now... For now he had something he had to do. Turning the item over in his hand three times, Harry closed his eyes, opening them to see his friend standing before with with a sad smile on her lips. Her ghostly form was clean, void of all the dirt, scratches, and blood that her body was currently riddled with, her hair a bit bushy, but smoother as it had become with age.

"Hello, Harry."

Harry stood at once, wanting to embrace her, hold her tightly and sob into her shoulder, but he couldn't. He had to hold himself back from that. "Hello... Hermione." He managed, wondering partially if the portraits could see the spirit as well, or if he just looked like he had gone off his rocker.

She shifted nervously, her fingertips moving her sleeve up to trace the dark grey scars on her left forearm; a habit that Harry felt foolish for never noticing. When had that started? How was he just realizing it now that she was gone? This wasn't fair at all. "I'm sorry about getting caught like that, Harry. It just... slipped out. Bellatrix hit me just before the spell from Voldemort hit you."

His eyes shut in sorrow, knowing that his willingness to die hadn't been able to protect her since she had perished mere moments before he had. She was the only one who was brave enough to utter the Dark Lord's name aloud. To defy him with as much vigor as he did even when Ron had left her. Was that what made it impossible for her to connect with the boy she had thought she loved? "It's not your fault. I should have kept you from coming. I should have-"

"Harry, stop it. Blaming yourself for my death will get you nowhere." She told him firmly, ever the logical one of their trio. His eyes opened to see her jaw jutted out slightly to the left, her arms folded over her chest. "Now, fix your bloody wand, Harry. I know you don't want to use the Death Stick longer than needed."

The sound of profanity escaping her lips made a hollow chuckle to escape him, nodding in agreement as he pocketed the stone once more, causing her to fade away once again. He noticed that the portrait of Albus was snoring away in his frame once again, sighing irritably that he had missed his chance to converse more with him. As he retrieved the old wand from the pouch about his neck, Harry realized that he had the Deathly Hallows. He had all three Hallows right now. He was the Master of Death. Shaking his head to clear the thought, he uttered, _"Reparo."_

The wand slowly knit itself back together, the Chosen One lifting it to preform a simple spell to see if it still worked. _"Wingardium Leviosa!"_

A stack of books lift off of the desk before settling back down, Harry placing his original wand in his pocket before looking over the Hallow that Voldemort had sought after most of all. It was his. He could keep it, remain silent of it, or he could destroy it. Hermione would want him to destroy it, but what if both of his current wands were destroyed? What if he didn't have them anymore? It could be the thing between him staying alive, or her death being for naught.

_"Soon, we must all face the choice between what is right, and what is easy." _

The words once again echoed through his mind, but this time, Harry ignored them. He placed the Elder Wand into his pouch, taking a deep inhale in through his nose as he prepared himself to go back out to face the crowd. Maybe one day, he could forgive himself for all those who died in his name, but right now he could not.

_"Do not pity the dead, Harry. Pity the living, and, above all, those who live without love."_

He did not pity the dead, but he did miss them terribly. He missed them, and felt responsible for them. He was the Boy Who Twice Lived, they were all the ones who died far too soon.


End file.
